


Breathless

by Sparsile_Star



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-09-07 19:30:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8813422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sparsile_Star/pseuds/Sparsile_Star
Summary: Kenma's difficulty breathing turns into a full-blown panic attack during practice. Kuroo helps to calm him down.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, and welcome to my first fic on AO3! 
> 
> Some background: I'm a sucker for hurt/comfort centering around Kuroo and Kenma, so here is a pretty self-serving oneshot on that very topic. I wrote this after I recently experienced a panic attack like the one in this fic (yes, fair warning, this fic does feature one of those). My anemia sometimes makes breathing difficult due to the lack of iron in my blood. When I thought too hard about not being able to breathe one day at work, I started hyperventillating. My co-worker noticed, and, without drawing any attention to it, grabbed my hand, took me outside, and helped me calm down. I was so grateful to her that I wanted to write about what happened. So I gave the experience to a few of my favorite Haikyuu!! characters, and threw some romantic details into the mix. ;) Any comments are welcome and highly appreciated. Thanks for reading!

“Kenma! Oi, Kenma, hurry up, practice starts in five.”

On the other side of the club room wall, Kenma was trying to remember how to breathe.

Thank God he was the last one there, he thought vaguely. He crouched in the corner, his back against cool cinderblock. He knew he was breathing fine, objectively, but he wasn’t getting enough air. His breaths didn’t feel like they were going deep enough into his lungs to be satisfying.

_Air hunger_ , the internet had called it. He’d been dealing with it for a few weeks, and so far his research had been only relatively helpful. Right now, he was attempting to do something called belly breathing, making a conscious effort to direct the air into his belly instead of his chest. It was moderately effective, but Kenma could still feel the distress of a body not getting enough oxygen.

He took two more slow, full breaths, forcing the exhale out of his nose and sucking air into his stomach. It helped a little bit to think of each individual breath as having a color. A red breath wasn’t satisfying at all, but a blue one staunched the craving. If he distanced himself like this, clinically examining each breath for something other than what it was or was not doing, he could just about hold panic at bay.

Using this method, Kenma managed two good, blue breaths, then got up and headed to the gym. Maybe practice would take his mind off things.

It did, mostly. Occasionally, when he stretched his arms over his head to set, his chest felt tight and empty. Once he landed from the jump, he’d have to remember to breathe from his belly to curb the feeling. Often, he’d need to yawn, just to get the blue kind of satisfaction of a full chest of air. Yawning was pretty normal for him, though; Kenma always yawned during practice. That, at least, wouldn’t seem too out of place to his teammates.

He still caught Kuro glancing at him once or twice with concern, but avoided his eyes. There was nothing Kuro could do about it, and, while he was on the subject, damn his ability to know when something was up. It made trying to hide things very inconvenient.

They hit halftime, and the team wandered over to the bench. Kenma sat somewhat apart, nursing his water bottle and going over the game so far in his mind. _That one set to Lev cost our side a point. It should’ve been higher,_ he thought. _Next time. And I should’ve made that dump shot less obvious; it would’ve gone through otherwise_. _The other team’s setter is crafty, but I should be able to work around him. Think. Strategize. Think! They all depend on your direction. You can’t screw this up. Now, if their ace comes in from the left…_

He wiped sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand and set his water bottle beside him. The uncomfortable, tight feeling was back, so he hung his head low between his knees. He tried to remember how to belly breathe—where the air should be going and how frequently—but his mind was blank. He couldn’t even put colors to the feelings anymore. His body attempted to compensate by breathing more, and faster, but it was just moving air in and out. There wasn’t any oxygen to be had. His vision started tunneling.

“Kenma? Kenma!” Kuro’s voice. “Kenma, hey, what’s wrong?”

“Kuro…” Kenma panted. “I can’t…catch my breath…”

His brain was a swirling gray mess of panic, all the colors crushed into static. He knew he must look ridiculous, his chest heaving, his whole body tense and shaking. _Pathetic. Pathetic. Pathetic._ The mantra rang in his ears, a dense counterpoint to the worried murmurs of his teammates. He knew they were looking at him; he could feel the weight of their stares.

“Okay, come with me. We’re gonna get some fresh air.”

Kenma nodded, still gasping. Kuro grabbed his wrist and he swayed upright from the bench. Kuro kept ahold of his wrist with one hand and wrapped his other arm around Kenma’s shoulders, gently shepherding him to the gym exit. 

Kenma felt like he was floating. His feet scuffed the gym floor as they made their way outside, and he ended up half-tripping on the threshold. Kuro tightened his hold around Kenma’s shoulders and steered him over to a bench in the courtyard, drenched in spring sun. Kenma sat heavily, then turned his body so he could lie down on the warm, rough wooden slats. He curled into himself and shook, his breath rattling in his lungs like dice in a plastic cup.

He vaguely heard Kuro sit beside him, then his fried brain registered the warmth of a hand moving up and down his back. “You’re gonna be fine, Kenma, I promise,” Kuro was saying. “You’re still breathing, and there’s air out here, see? All around this big open space. I’m breathing it, so it’s definitely there, right? Try and breathe with me, okay?”  

Kenma tried. He inhaled: his face burned. He exhaled: the pounding of his heart felt like it was shaking his entire body from the inside out. “T-trying…”

“You’re doing fine. In and out, come on.”

“Your voice…is all w-wavery…”

“I know. You’re hearing me from inside your panic, so everything sounds messed up. But I’m fine, and you’re fine. Keep breathing with me. Here.” Kuro knelt on the ground beside Kenma so they were at eye level. He gently coaxed one of Kenma’s hands away from where it was clutching his jersey, and placed it on his own chest. “Here. Feel me breathe, okay?”

“K-Kuro…” Kenma blinked helplessly, eyelids twitching with exertion. _Red breath, red breath, red breath..._

“I know. I know you’re freaking out, but let me help you. Take in air when I do. Fill up your stomach, not your chest, alright?”

“K..kay…” Kenma’s fingers spasmed over Kuro’s heart. He closed his eyes and let his hand rise and fall. Steady, rhythmic, solid. The next time he felt Kuro’s chest swell with air, he took in a deep breath and tried to match the timing of the exhale. His head was still spinning. “Kuro?”

“Hmm?” Kenma could feel the reverberations from the sound through his fingertips.

“My lips are n-numb…fingers too, a bit…”

“Okay.” Kuro sounded a little worried by that. “Okay, but we’re gonna fix that. I promise. Keep breathing.”

Kenma said nothing, just nodded and concentrated on trying to get his body back under control.

He managed to follow three of Kuro’s breaths in a row.

“You’re doing great. Keep it up,” Kuro praised him quietly.

His next breath felt blueish around the edges. He was getting there. His lips and fingertips tingled as oxygen began to reach them again. He bit some more feeling back into his lips and cracked open bleary eyes.

Kuro’s face was the first thing he saw. His hair, a dark blotch against the blue of the sky, the lanky angles of his long limbs, the glint of concern in his eyes. Kenma blinked, and took another deep breath.

The corner of Kuro’s mouth lifted into a half-smile. Gentle. Relieved. “There you are. Better?”

Kenma swallowed. “Nearly.” His hand still trembled directly over Kuro’s heart. He began to retract it when Kuro brought up his own hand to cover it. He pressed Kenma’s hand back to his chest and held it there.

“K-Kuro?”

“Let’s keep the deep breaths coming for a little while, huh? Just to be safe.”

Kenma hesitated, then relaxed. “Sure. For a little while,” he agreed.

Kuro’s little smile widened, blossoming over his face. Kenma closed his eyes again, heat tingeing the tips of his ears. He breathed, and let himself revel in feeling Kuro breathe beside him. Each breath reverberated in the cathedral of Kuro’s chest. Kenma suddenly felt a ludicrous urge to pray to it.

His body shivered, coming down from its flood of adrenaline. Kenma felt vaguely hysterical. His fingers tightened in Kuro’s jersey. Kuro squeezed his hand. 

A real breath finally filled Kenma’s lungs. It spread through every part of him, refreshing him like water. He felt the wideness of it, the bright, clear blue. Kenma opened his eyes again, and smiled.


End file.
